


Lazadough Rising

by Bagstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bagelpocalypse, Gen, what the fuck am i doing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:46:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1756655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bagstiel/pseuds/Bagstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester and closeted baking enthusiast Bobby Singer summon the creature who saved Dean from Toaster Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazadough Rising

**Author's Note:**

> The amazingly amazing allhailtheprincestale on tumblr recorded this fic which you can listen to [here.](http://allhailtheprincestale.tumblr.com/post/88153710224/a-reading-of-an-original-fic-lazadough-rising-by)

There is thunder. The roof of the barn in crashing and clattering above them. The symbols and sigils painted on the walls don't seem to be doing anything. Their weapons are the last line of defence.

Dean Winchester, recent Sunbeam brand Toaster Hell escapee, stands holding various guns and knives. His friend Bobby, scone enthusiast, mirrors Dean position next to him. 

It’s loud, then quiet. They wait. 

Suddenly the doors of the barn crash open revealing… nothing? At least at first. The two of them share a confused glance before Dean notices movement at ground level. A small round object, cloaked in tan fabric rolls slowing into the barn. The hunters react with a mixture of suspicion and confusion that fits the situation perfectly.

The object -now recognizable as a plain, yet delicious, bagel- moves forward with increasing urgency and grace. Recognising the potential threat the hunters begin shooting. 

Given the size of the bagel and speed at which it is moving it takes a couple tries before either hits the target. The bullet pierces the bagels enticing side, crumbs of tasty breakfast food scatter like the black bits on burnt toast. The bagel falters for only a moment before powering forward even faster than before. Wound alreading healing.

Before the either man manages to hit their target a second time the bagel has rolled close enough to lightly tap against the feet of the crumpet loving, more experienced in the ways of bread making man. Bobby collapses into a heap on the ground, unconscious. 

Dean (Concerned for his Ciabatta making expert friend, but far more worried for his own safety in the presence of this seemingly dangerous bagel) grabs the demon killing knife from the table behind him and impales the rounded bread product from above.

The bagel falls forward. Its hole -interpret that anyway you wish- hits the dirt with a small thud. All is still.

Dean watches in shock as the bagel begins to wiggle backward, away from the hilt of the knife. He is frozen in fear. After two or three minutes (or until golden brown) the bagel is free of the blade. It lifts itself back onto its side, its illusion of a face tilted up towards Dean.

“Hello, Dean Winchester,” Its voice is deep and masculine and a little sexy. None of this matters to Dean at that moment though, for he has just met a talking bagel.

“You're a talking bagel?” Dean asks, he can get a little slow when stressed.

“Yes Dean.” The bagel replies so bitchily you can almost see the eye roll, despite the ring of yeasted dough being absent of eyes.

“A bagel?” Dean asks, clearly and understandably confused at this turn of events.

“Yes, Dean. I am.” The bagel replies. It only occurs to Dean now that considering the lightly glazed cylinders lack of a mouth it should not be able to speak.

“Not an angel or anything? A bagel?” Dean asks again, still confused despite the clear confirmation from the bagel.

“Yes, Dean. I am a bagel. The interpreter of the bible you know made a spelling mistake.” The bagel says in a pissy tone.

“I was saved from Hell by a bagel?” Dean says, still confused. Which is a shame because when the bagel gets pissy his voice gets that little bit more sexy and Dean likes to appreciate sexy things. Even if they are bagel related.

“Yes, Dean. I, Bagstiel, Bagel of The Lord, gripped you tight and raised you from the toaster.” Bagstiel says proudly.

“How can you even talk?” Dean wonders aloud, still, if not even more, confused.

“My Father, Oven-” Bagstiel begins before being rudely interrupted by a well meaning yet horribly confused man.

“Oven?” As the conversation continues Deans confusion level is beginning to rise faster and faster. Like the line on a line graph of the temperature in texas starting on January 1st and ending on June 31st.

“I believe you know him as God?” Bagstiel says, bitchy tone beginning to turn into annoyance.

“Uh, yeah. But-”

“My Father created us so we could talk to the humans whom we protect.” Bagstiel says in a rush, attempting to finish explaining before being interrupted again.

“Well, okay. But why a bagel?” Dean says, still confused. Dean is becoming worried he will never escape his confusion.

“Oven works in mysterious ways, Dean.” Bagstiel quotes. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would really like for you to stop asking questions relating to my appearance and start asking the question you really want to know the answers to.”

The rest, they say, is roughly hand-sized history.


End file.
